


A Trio in Orange

by ijemanja



Category: Leverage
Genre: Bickering, Breakfast foods, F/M, Multi, OT3
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-14
Updated: 2017-02-14
Packaged: 2018-09-22 17:06:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,664
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9617147
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ijemanja/pseuds/ijemanja
Summary: Three thieves eat breakfast. For varying definitions of 'breakfast'.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [sunspot (unavoidedcrisis)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/unavoidedcrisis/gifts).



1.

"Seriously?" Eliot said, eyeing the spread on the table before him.

Seated opposite Eliot, Hardison eyed it, too, and found it worthy. "What's the problem?" 

"You said you were making dinner."

"And have I not produced a perfectly fine -"

"Really? You think so?" Eliot demanded, eyebrows practically lost up amongst the rest of his indignantly ruffled hair. "What is this?"

"It's - it's breakfast for dinner, what's wrong with that?"

"I'm not eating this, Hardison."

"Parker likes it."

"Parker eats like a toddler crossed with a moray eel."

Both men looked over at Parker who was occupying the third seat at the table. Her mouth was full, cheeks bulging as she chewed, having just taken another enormous bite. It had been about twenty seconds since they all sat down and she had already inhaled half her food.

She looked back at them and nodded, apparently not only unbothered by, but approving of, the comparison.

"Be that as it may, Eliot, I resent the value judgement inherent into this tone you are taking over my perfectly legit -"

"Oh I'm judging."

"Legitimate -"

"I'm judging you, absolutely. And no, it's not. It's not. Where'd you even get these, a gas station?"

"Breakfast for dinner is a - it is a widely accepted thing. _Legitimate_ , Eliot. Mr Michelin Throwing Star over here. Throwing a damn tantrum over this excellent - _excellent_ \- repast, which is - hey. Breakfast for dinner is a perfectly legitimate dining option."

"That's not why - I'm not throwing a tantrum Hardison."

"You are very huffy."

"It's not - you're damn right I'm huffy but I know 'breakfast for dinner' is a thing, that's not my problem. This isn't -"

"Why is it breakfast for dinner?" Parker said, her mouth briefly free of food enabling her to speak. "If you're eating breakfast then it's breakfast."

"My problem is this isn't even breakfast, Hardison. It's microwave burritos and -"

"They are breakfast burritos. For breakfast. _For_ breakfast for dinner."

"And what's this, huh? OJ?" Eliot made infuriated motions at the glass included in his place setting.

"So is it the time of day that makes it dinner?" Parker said.

"Well excuse me for not providing your freshly squeezed, macro-organic -"

"I mean what about vampires?" Parker went on. "They sleep all day and then they wake up when it's dark and the first guy they suck dry... Is that breakfast or dinner?"

"Breakfast," snapped Eliot at the same time as Hardison said, with equal surety, " _dinner_."

"Wrong," Parker said. "Exsanguination isn't a meal. Technically it's drinking, not eating. It's a beverage." With that, Parker stood up and left the two men frowning at each other over the highly contentious meal.

"Eat your breakfast, man," Hardison said.

Eliot's lips compressed tightly. He was clearly incredibly annoyed and not amused at all. Not even in the least.

Knowing the slightest push at this point would invoke either laughter or an explosion, and wanting to make the man crack either way, Hardison pushed.

"And here, enjoy this delicious and nutritious citrusy beverage." He carefully reached across the table and slid Eliot's glass of soda another few inches nearer to his elbow. Eliot started shaking his head as it came closer. "It's -"

"Don't."

"It's orange."

Eliot huffily left the table, following after Parker with a dramatic flip of his hair. 

"Hey, it's orange!" Hardison shrugged and took a bite, and said, smiling with his mouth full, "That's a damn fine breakfast burrito, don't know what he's complaining about."

  


2.

Hardison stuck his head in the door of the brew pub kitchen.

"Hey man, Parker needs something sweet. I need carbs. I need to carb-load up. As in, load a bunch of golden starchy goodness into my mouth. So we going out for doughnuts." 

A second later Parker's head appeared beside Hardison's. "It already smells like doughnuts in here."

"I think he's working on a new dessert."

"I thought Eliot didn't do dessert."

"Well he definitely doesn't do doughnuts, I know that much."

"He should though, they're delicious."

Eliot, listening to this from over at the stove, turned to give them both a look as he pointed at one of the centre benches.

"Siddown," he ordered.

They came in and sat.

He moved from the stove to set a plate in front of each other them, reciting as he did so: "Something sweet. Lots of carbs."

"How'd you know?" Hardison asked.

Eliot shrugged and turned back to the stove. "Big night."

They'd come back from the job past midnight, all three of them high with another win but, as always seemed to happen, not entirely unscathed. They always seemed to pull through by the skin of their teeth if nothing more. Sometimes it felt a little too close, though, and they didn't have Nate and Sophie to rely on any more. 

"Mmm," came enthusiastic Hardison sounds from behind him. "What is happening in my mouth right now?"

Eliot smirked to himself. "Crêpe Suzette."

"These little triangle things are like... golden starchy crack."

"I want to eat a million of them." Parker leaned over the plate and took a long, deep sniff. "They smell like Hardison. Except less sweaty."

"I'm swe - I'm - I smell?"

"I mean, a little, you haven't showered this morning and we had sex like three times last night after we got home."

"It's the Curaçao," Eliot explained. "You flambé the sauce and the sugars caramelise, then you finish with a little tangerine zest."

"I was going to shower - you wanted doughnuts. That was all you, girl."

"I needed sugar. I don't care if you smell like that."

Eliot rolled his eyes as he brought the pan back over. Neither of them even noticed it was on fire as they bickered.

"I'll go shower. I'll go right now. After Eliot finishes this batch. I still have room. And here's my man Eliot slaving away over a hot stove, it would be rude."

"Would it?"

Eliot soaked another crêpe in the sauce and folded it. Sprinkle of powdered sugar. Drizzle of sauce. Finished with zest. 

Hardison leaned over and buried his nose in Parker's neck and inhaled. "Like you ain't a little funky right now."

They ate and they talked and Eliot remained silent. There was refuge in routine and this was his. 

When breakfast was winding down, Parker had finished eating several crêpes ago while Hardison was valiantly making his way through just one more. Parker had her chin resting on her hand, her feet drumming an off-beat staccato against the legs of her stool. 

She should have been heading for a sugar high - or a sugar coma - but as always she defied expectations. 

"Eliot," she said. "I needed sugar. Hardison needed carbs. What do you need?"

Hardison gestured with his fork. "I think he's doing it, babe. He's getting his kitchen mojo on."

Eliot rolled his eyes and turned from the suddenly matching set of watchful eyes. "I need you both to shower," he tossed at them over his shoulder.

Eventually they shuffled off to do that - or at least he hoped that's where they were going. He paused in cleaning up to watch them go. And he didn't bother denying it to himself: he had exactly what he needed right there.

  


3.

One foot in front of the other, shifting her weight in precise increments, Parker advanced through the room.

This operation was a careful balancing act. Literally. She had like three different awkwardly shaped things to carry right now, but of course it was nothing she couldn't handle. Even if one of them was threatening to spill.

A graceful leap and she landed lightly, barely jostling herself or the two sleeping men occupying the bed. In fact they didn't wake up until she stalked up the centre of the mattress, turned and sat herself down right between them.

Eliot woke up fast enough then, presented with a knee half an inch from his face. He pushed up on his elbow and glared sleepily at her before flopping onto his back and glaring up at the ceiling instead. "Wake up, Hardison," he growled.

Hardison had turned over away from her, trying to avoid the whole situation with the covers up over his ear but with Eliot complaining and Parker poking him in the back he gave in and sat up beside her. She passed him his very full bowl of cereal.

"What's this?" he said.

"Breakfast in bed."

"Where's my cereal?" Eliot asked, leaning back against the headboard on her other side.

"You don't eat cereal."

"Okay, so where's _your_ cereal? Hardison is the only one who gets breakfast?"

"I didn't feel like cereal. I felt like Halloween candy." She showed him the plastic skull bucket in her lap. Eliot sighed. She pulled his treat from the bucket and threw it his way.

He caught it easily. "An orange?"

"It was the most nutritious food item we had. It was that or a raw salmon steak."

He blinked. "Good call on the orange."

"'Swhy she's the boss," Hardison mumbled around a spoonful of Cheerios.

"Really?" She frowned. "I thought it was because I'm the smartest."

"You're eating candy for breakfast, Parker. I wouldn't make assumptions. Here." With deadly efficiency Eliot had the orange peeled and in sections within a matter of seconds, leaving a neat pile of peel on the bedside table and hardly any juice on his fingers. He passed a quarter to Parker and reached across her to thrust another piece of fruit at Hardison. "Eat some damn vitamins."

"Aw, Eliot cares," Hardison said.

"I care if you get scurvy."

"I mean, I think everyone cares if they get scurvy," Parker said, alternating bites of candy corn and orange.

"Great breakfast, babe," Hardison said. He turned his head and dropped a slightly milky kiss to her shoulder.

Eliot's hand was warm on her thigh as he smiled a small, rare smile. "Might be the best one yet." 

"Obviously," Parker said, and tilted her head back to toss some more candy in her mouth.


End file.
